What better place to engage in guerrilla film making than right in the home of the iconic anti-American imperialist guerrilla rebels Che Guevara and his cigar-smoking amigo Fidel Castro, Havana, Cuba.
Little did we realize that for many of us--this would be our first and last trip to Havana.
Our mission was to fly into the belly of the communist/socialist beast and film the movie, ‘WingMan’.
We planned on nailing this full five-day shoot on the streets of Havana without the Castro government’s prior approval or permission.
We knew in advance after our last shooting day, by government decree, all foreign and domestic artists would need a government license in order to create or perform their art. And that all art in Cuba had to be vetted in advance by this totalitarian regime.
We were not going to go down that censorious rabbit hole. No way, Jose!
We also knew that Cuba’s financial patrons-Russia and Venezuela had fallen on hard times and Cuba relied on Canadian, Asian and European tourist dollars to stay afloat.
Especially since Trump had re-imposed economic sanctions on Cuba and travel restrictions on American tourists travelling to Cuba, thus stopping the flow of American touristas and their much desired American dollars.
We gambled that if our film crew passed themselves off as wealthy Canadian tourists, the Cuban government might look the other way and not arrest us so readily and throw us in their stinking rat-infested jails for filming without any permits or licenses.
Four film crew, four actors and our fearless director Richard Hemingway all secured valid and legitimate Canadian passports.
So as to not attract attention from the feared Cuban secret police, the Intelligence Directorate, we split the team in two and flew out of Canada on two separate flights, on different days.
Team 1, Codename “Argo” consisting of our four-man film crew, upon arrival in Havana airport decided to test out the supposedly airtight Cuban security. The Argo team tried to smuggle a drone past Cuban customs, for the purpose of taking aerial shots of the city. As predicted, the drone was discovered and confiscated. The good news, our film crew was not arrested and the film equipment confiscated for good. The bad news--our film crew appeared to be on a national security “watch list”.
Team 2, Codename, “Big Bird” flew into Havana two days later and cleared Cuban customs without an international incident, save and except for one Cuban airport drug-sniffing dog apparently confusing our executive producer’s organic after shave lotion for cannabis oil.
“Mission Impossible”-like due diligence
We prepared for this patently illegal film project with “Mission Impossible”-like due diligence. In case we had to do some fast-talking with the Cuban authorities, our group included two Spanish-speaking fellows; one rotund, cigar-smoking amigo, Rinaldo, AKA “Don Punta”. and producer Stefano, who has been with this project since its inception. To this day, little is known about the enigmatic Stefano, except upon landing in Cuba, Stefano immediately embedded himself in Cuban society with a local girlfriend as he spoke Cuban Spanish like a native. He both walked the walk and talked the talk.
Producer Stefano’s uncanny transformation to Cuban Stefano probably saved our shoot and possibly our lives.
Under the cover of wealthy Canadian tourists, we took over a luxurious heavily-gated and very secure two-storey villa in the upscale Miramar area of Havana, with its own spectacular pool overlooking the beautiful but heavily polluted Almendares River.
Though the hosts of our villa were very warm and co-operative, they were continuously registering us and checking and double checking our passports and entry and exit tourist visas. And apparently reporting our comings and goings to the authorities. The hosts also required that any local Cuban guest visiting our villa had to provide his/her government-issued ID.
Much to the chagrin of our youthful camera crew, the villa’s management limited the number of local women friends to our villa to just the same four lovely chiquitas.
Visions of a wild and crazy wrap pool party vanished.
But first, let us digress for a moment and provide some context to see this story, within a story within a further story.
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“WingMan” is essentially about the search for redemption
“WingMan” is essentially about the search for redemption.
Following in the footsteps of his heroes Ernest Hemingway and Orson Welles, the WingMan sees himself as the “New Hollywood”. He has come to Havana to escape the dying politically correct “MeToo” inclusive/diversity/equal/gender-fluid Hollywood. To tap into his inner forgotten man. To become a real man. And to re-invent himself as a totally unique and true artist/actor/producer as his last ticket to fame and fortune.
Richard 'The Ghost Of Hemingway’ has come to Havana to ultimately seek peace amongst the chaos in his life and to bring this project home strong.
Like life and art, things did not go as planned.
Our first day and night of shooting was entirely within the safety of the villa for both our interior shots and our exterior pool shots. We took comfort in filming in our controlled space.
On the second day, we ventured into Havana. Our fearless leader, the Director had booked a room at the famous Hotel Nacional de Cuba in the heart of Havana, where we filmed some key interviews.
To avoid scrutiny, we split into two teams. Both groups hit the streets of Havana, filming silently as tourists and occasionally coming together to discreetly film our Director and the Wingman in the Floridita, Hemingway’s old haunt and on the grounds of the Nacional overlooking the sea and the El Malecon boardwalk.
We survived day two without incident.
On day 3, we were not so lucky.
Pushing the Envelope
On the third day of shooting, we decided to push the envelope and we took out a two-man camera crew, Stefano to film the Wingman walking down a sketchy back street to the sea not far from the villa. Accidentally, we shot in the background a group of 30 mean-looking bikers hanging out in some abandoned parking lot.
Seeing our film crew, two bikers approached menacingly and demanded to know what we were doing filming this bikers’ group. Stefano explained in Spanish we were just doing a touristy video. We meant no harm. These mean-looking hombres were not satisfied. They demanded that we delete any shots of the biker group. Which we complied.
Then we quickly removed ourselves from the scene, before things got nasty and our equipment and film were seized or worse.
Don Punta , through a local contact, later told us that these bikers were undercover secret Cuban police.
On the final day of shooting, our fearless Director urged us--against our better judgment--to film a critical interview scene within the famous Riviera Hotel, the hotel that American mobsters Meyer Lansky and Lucky Luciano built in the '50s.
Before we could properly set up, hotel security demanded our written licenses to film in the historic site. Needless to say, we were escorted out of the hotel.
We then tried to film this critical interview scene in the meeting room of a Vedado boutique hotel where our fearless and sometimes reckless Director had taken a suite.
True guerrilla film making in a totalitarian state
Since we had no government permit or license to film, once again we were asked to leave, but this time two Cuban secret police were called to the boutique hotel. The angry hotel operator threatened to take away our passports and bring us in for questioning. Once again, Stefano diffused the situation with some fancy footwork in Spanish. Perhaps preventing from us being detained by secret police and spending a very difficult night or more as the guests of the feared intelligence directorate of the Ministry of Interior.
We got the message loud and clear. We ordered two cabs to take us back to our villa.
The secret police followed us most of the way to our villa.
Finally, fear and paranoia gripped our now fearful Director who grabbed a camera man in the middle of night, and rushed to the airport in an effort to pass successfully through customs with at least one hard drive of our Cuban film making. Since the Director was there at the airport seven hours before departure, the Cuban authorities would not let him clear customs and sent him home to the villa.
Two hours before our departure, our film crew of four and the Wingman and now a thoroughly stressed out Director approached Cuban customs.
We were sure that our film and our cameras would never reach our Canadian destination.
We gave ourselves a 50/50 chance that we would be detained and our equipment and our valuable filming of Havana--uncut and uncensored-- would be confiscated.
During these few tense moments, we collectively longed for our relatively free democratic life where law was respected and the police were there to serve and protect and uphold the civil rights of its citizens. And where none of us had to fear a knock on the door and being hauled off arbitrarily to an unknown fate in a very lawless police state.
Surprisingly, the sleepy-eyed customs official waved us through.
We had made it.
We were going home. And some of us had seen the last of Castro’s Havana.
In retrospect, within our safe environment back home, was this crazy/scary effort of true guerrilla film making in a totalitarian state- all worth it?
Mitch Wolfe is the writer/director/star of the film, “WingMan” which will premiere during the Toronto International Film Festival on Friday, September 11, 2020.This film is a sequel to a very popular unscripted comedic tv series, called “WingMen”, currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video in the U.S.
Mitch Wolfe, a graduate of Harvard University, is the author of “Trump: How He Captured The Trump White House”, which he wrote and had published prior to the election. (available on Amazon.com)
What better place to engage in guerrilla film making than right in the home of the iconic anti-American imperialist guerrilla rebels Che Guevara and his cigar-smoking amigo Fidel Castro, Havana, Cuba.
Little did we realize that for many of us--this would be our first and last trip to Havana.
Our mission was to fly into the belly of the communist/socialist beast and film the movie, ‘WingMan’.
We planned on nailing this full five-day shoot on the streets of Havana without the Castro government’s prior approval or permission.
We knew in advance after our last shooting day, by government decree, all foreign and domestic artists would need a government license in order to create or perform their art. And that all art in Cuba had to be vetted in advance by this totalitarian regime.
We were not going to go down that censorious rabbit hole. No way, Jose!
